In the Van; or, The Builders

by John Price-Brown

In another minute he had disappeared.

Helen's face was calm again, although her heart thumped wildly, and forcing herself to speak to the women, she talked to them about the berries.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

To Helen Captain Cummings was an enigma. She could not understand him, and in search of a solution her mind persistently returned to the interview in the woods, and the conversation that passed between them. The more she thought of it, however, the more convinced did she become that there was truth in the Captain's contention, and the question of exhibiting equal cordiality in her relations with the officers of the garrison presented itself to her mind in a new light. Possibly, she had been less impartial than the conditions called for, and if so she was willing to make amends.

Yet there was another side to the question: the other officers were spontaneous and candid in their dealings with her, while obscurity and indefiniteness always seemed to have been impelling forces with Cummings. There was something in his actions and manners that she could not comprehend. Still, the fault might be in herself. All men were not open-minded; and with a desire to be just, she determined to conquer, if she could, that peculiar nervous tension which his presence when alone with her always produced.

There are things which every true woman fights out for herself. As a complete entity, she does her own thinking, unguided and unaided, revealing her inmost thoughts to none. Helen told Harold of the shot she heard in the woods, and of Cummings' appearance immediately afterwards in the berry patch beside her—even of his offer to carry her pail—and then of his return to the woods to resume his shooting. But, paradoxical as it may seem, she said nothing of the real nature of her difficulty with Cummings. Of mental impressions received, she alone had the record. Then why sow distrust between her husband and the Captain? No good could possibly come of it. So unless matters became worse, she would refrain from letting him, as she still refrained from showing him her diary.

In a few more days, amid general rejoicing, the stone Fort was ready for occupation. Order out of chaos had come at last, and it presented a fine appearance on that memorable first of October, when its wide door was thrown open for the first time to admit its future occupants. Above the roof the Union Jack unfurled before the breeze, while the bugle boy, with shrill piping, summoned all—officers and men—to join in the celebration.

Here and there around the building were little groups of soldiers, while the Indians had gathered in front of the Fort to see how white men conducted themselves on occasions like this.

Early in the day, the last of the goods from Helen's house and the officers' quarters were carried in and arranged, for it had been decided by the Colonel that she must be queen of the citadel from the first, so when three o'clock arrived, and Sir George took his place on a little stand in front of the Fort to address the people, everything was in order, and loud and prolonged cheers greeted him.

"Officers and men of the 100th, French-Canadians and Indian brothers," he commenced. "We may all congratulate ourselves on the progress made since we came to Penetang. You have done your best. You have worked with a will, and we have every reason to be satisfied with what we have accomplished. Right through the summer we have had comfortable quarters to live and sleep in, and now through the management of Captain Payne, after six months of working and waiting, we open our garrison—our little stone castle—of which every one of us is proud. Here we have a home for the officers of our troops, and the upper storey, when supplied with arms and ammunition, will enable us to defend our harbor against any foe who may dare to invade us. As you know, too, to strengthen our position we have built a bridge across to the island. On that island stands our newly erected magazine, armed with the cannon which we dragged through the woods all the way from Halifax—and over that little magazine floats our country's flag (loud cheers).